


under me you, so quite new

by spare_time



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-22 23:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15593127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spare_time/pseuds/spare_time
Summary: What sort of bloody idiot hires an escort for their best friend's wedding, anyways? —- Remus Lupin, apparently. His sort.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains quite a bit of AU --- also inspired by the film "The Wedding Date"! So, strap in, kiddos; i'm takin' you for a ride. One that I do very much so hope you enjoy.

“Pathetic,” Remus grouses, reflection seeming to mock him as he stands white-knuckling his bathroom sink; unable to pry himself away from the mirror despite how little this current pep talk is doing for his self esteem. 

And perhaps it’s his own diminishing self worth — or, perhaps, the bags under his eyes truly are as despicable as they seem .. though somehow this morning, he seems to appear even worse for wear than usual. The sinking of his stomach the agonizing cherry on top, of course; utter dread filling him to the brim. 

He attempts to stand a bit straighter, round his shoulders out a bit … anything to help this utterly dissatisfying picture. He cards a hand through eternally unruly hair — wishing that perhaps it were a bit more kept; a bit more cooperative. And his nose — for christ sake — has it always been so bent? His eyes so far apart?

“Sorry piece of—-“ He begins to mutter darkly, only to be cut off by an abrupt beep of his home phone; the sign of an awaiting message ready to be heard. He must have missed the call altogether, too busy wallowing in self pity; not unlike himself, though a bit much, even for him.

Mug in hand, Remus makes a production of it; crossing the room — taking his sweet time as he practically drags his feet upon the floor. Dreading the sound of his mother’s voice; or, worse —- yet another reminder from Lily. As sweet as she is, he could positively gouge her eyes out. Especially if she’s calling to request the name of his date —- yet again. Perhaps he could skip out on the event all together …. hole up at home, as he prefers to do. Remus has been meaning to start that new novel…

He sends a longing glance in the direction of his night stand; a stained wine glass perched upon the sizable book in question. Though a nagging voice in the back of his mind promptly shuts any thoughts of backing out down; you love them, he reminds himself sharply. It’s their wedding day, for fuck’s sake —- there are no excuses. 

Mustering up a bit of courage, Remus presses play on the machine. “Pathetic,” He drawls aloud once more. 

“Remus?” A voice answers in return —- low. Unfamiliar, yet … comfortable. Though it sets his nerves alight despite himself. “Sorry I didn't get back to you last night,” The voice continues, sounding a tad rushed, “but I got your messages — All seven of them. Listen, I know you're nervous, Remus, but this is what I get paid for.” A slight rustle, and the voice back. “I'm running a bit late, so I sent a messenger to pick up my ticket. Stop worrying, yeah? Your ex-fiancé will wish he never left you, and your family will think we're in love. Trust me. I'll see you at the airport. Can't wait to meet you.” A beat passes. “—- This is Sirius Black, by the way. Alright — See you then.” 

As silence falls upon Remus’ flat once more, he can’t help but lean up against his sofa for support — his knees feeling a bit weak despite the reassurance of the message. 

What sort of bloody idiot hires an escort for their best friends wedding, anyways? —- Him, apparently. His sort. Though he wasn’t left with much of a choice, now was he … not with Matthew being the best man, and all. Hell, he feels as if he might start to cry. 

Not that Sirius doesn’t sound like the most agreeable man he could imagine. His ad in the paper had practically sealed the deal — hidden amongst the other advertisements. As if that sort of thing were normal, Remus feeling a bit skeevy even flipping through the men on display. 

Dark hair, it had read, Long. 5’11, muscular build, experienced.

And if that weren’t enough, he supposes the article following truly had —- Confessions Of A Male Escort; the hottest piece of literature to hit the front page since … as long as he could remember, truly. Bless Allison for setting him up with his number — a bit of a violation of morals, though he supposed his begging had been just pathetic enough. Besides, she owed him.

Nervous fingers fiddling with the handle of his mug, Remus takes an idle sip of tea; remembering how intimate the man had sounded, even on paper. How truly put together he had seemed … it couldn’t be easy work, he imagined. A bit more extensive than his mere editing position. In some ways he felt for him —- though, that feeling was short lived given exactly how much Mr. Wonderful charged. 

The doorbell has him jumping, practically out of his skin. 

Must be the messenger, then. 

“So sorry,” Remus starts in his regular, flustered fashion. The envelop clutched in his hand held with the grip of a very unsure man as he stands stalling in the doorway. “I wasn't quite ready.” 

Obviously in a rush, bike balanced against his hip, the man reaches out to take said envelope —- the panic raging inside his chest building to a crescendo as he refuses to release his grip; his eyes a bit wild as he struggles to pull it back. 

“It’s a plane ticket,” He goes onto explain franticly, the pitch in his voice raising just a tad — revealing the slightly nervous wobble. “For a date. — My date. My best friend’s are getting married in Amsterdam of all places.”

The man merely blinks at him in return, the struggle a clear annoyance as he attempts to pull the envelope free from his manic vice grip. “You need to let go,” He tells him with surprisingly gentle tone. 

Remus just barely manages to bite back a whimper. “You’re going to have to help me.”

He wonders a beat too late if he should tip the poor man as he reaches out with his other hand to all bust shove Remus’ fingers away; the decision one he can no longer go back on as he watches the messenger turn and leave — plane tickets in hand as he disappears around the corner and down the stairs. 

And with that begins the mad dash for the airport —- the time having snuck up on him, leaving him with little to no seconds left to nit pick poor decisions as he rushes about his otherwise immaculate flat. Nearly taking off a toe in the process, his foot catching on the edge of an old dresser, a less than graceful hop preformed as he swears angrily under his breath. 

Plants moved to the windowsill then for some fresh air — instructions left tapped to the planter for the girl in 2B on the specifics of watering — Remus feels a bit aimless as he attempts to gather his things; his own plane ticket pocketed in fear of leaving it behind. 

Though amongst the mayhem, leave it to Remus Lupin to find a moment of solitude —- crouched down beside a chest long forgotten as he flips through ancient momentos; the smiling face of Matthew grinning up at him leaving his heart feeling a bit broken. It had been pleasant weather, the afternoon this particular picture was taken —- a crisp, fall wind luring them outside as they strolled hand in hand. Scarves and hats pulled into place, though they remained cuddled up regardless; the heat of his lover’s body preferred to anything else.

Christ, it had nearly done Remus in to take this picture off his bedside table. 

Not to mention to ring still hidden away — usually only brought out on the chance he feels like torturing himself. Which, regrettably, is more often than not.

Wondering time and time again exactly what he did wrong. 

No —- he cannot do this now. Not when he’s meant to see Matthew in just a few short hours; not when he hired a bloody escort to make the man jealous. 

He can do this, for fuck’s sake. He’s —- he’s in so over his head. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rory—” Remus starts a bit impatiently, fingers prodding against his temple as he all but wills his splitting headache to disappear. A work call of all things doing little for fraying nerves. The first class seat comfortable at the very least — not that he was able to enjoy even a moment of it properly. “I'm not working today, I’ve already told you this. — I'm going to my best mate’s wedding, yeah? The lot of you will have to survive without me.” 

“But Rem, we’ve already had three calls complaining about incorrect editing just this morning alone! — And two reps called in sick; I’m practically running things by myself!” Rory counters a tad frantically in return, his frustration obvious. Not that Remus can blame him, though he’s had this — er, holiday… if that’s even what if can be classified as — on the calendar for months. 

“I understand—-“ He attempts to console, his voice pitched low in fear of disturbing the other’s around him; mostly the business sort, sipping idly on their morning coffee. 

“And,” Rory interrupts once more, sounding as if he’s on the edge of a bloody break down, “there’s this bloke on line two intent on screaming at me of all people —- and you know how I get about confrontation, Remus. I can’t —- I can’t —-“ 

Remus sighs heavily, eyes lifting upwards as if searching for much needed help. “I’d Iove to heIp you, sincereIy,” He assures as calmly as he can muster; wondering if it’s a bit too early for a morning pick me up. “But I haven't seen my friends in nearly two years, Rory. And my flight leaves in minutes. —- Have you called Cass? I’m sure she could —-“ 

“Come on, Rem. Please, I'm begging you,” Comes his final plea. 

A beat passes…. then two. 

“Fucking —- fine, Rory. Fine. Forward me the incorrect editing, and i’ll have it properly done by tonight. Tell the bloke on line two that there is nothing that can be done until your supervisor comes in for the morning —- and I don’t want to hear from you for the rest of the weekend. Do I make myself clear?” Remus questions with a long suffering sigh. 

“Brilliant, Remus! You’re brilliant!” 

He rubs tiredly at his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. —- Have a good morning, Rory. Try not to have a coronary before mid-day.” 

And with that, he’s left to his own racing mind — Editing being the last of his worries; though he supposes it serves as a decent distraction. The tapping of his foot a dead give away of his very obvious anxieties. 

“Your first trip?” The stewardess asks kindly; a bright smile given as she places a flute of champagne on the tray before him. 

Remus loves first class. 

He shakes his head quickly in return; feeling as hysterical as Rory sounded, honestly. “My best mate’s getting married and the best man is my ex,” He shares solemnly, oversharing, he’s sure —- though she did ask. “Still considering chickening out, to be frank. —- I’m not a knuckIer, I swear. I fIy all the time.”

Hand trembling ever so slightly, Remus reaches out towards the beckoning champagne; deciding fuck it, as he takes his first of many generous sips. “—- Plus, the real reason I can't feeI my legs is that any second my date is going sit down just behind me. — We haven’t met yet. And, honestly? I need him to look bloody incredible today.” 

Undoubtedly taking pity on him, the trapped stewardess spares a glance in the direction of the seat just behind him — empty, as it would appear. Though as hee eyes widen ever so slightly, Remus can’t help but embrace the pang of panic that tumbles down his spine; frozen as he attempts to decipher just what her expression could mean. 

He’s done it now, hasn’t he? He’s taken a chance on an absolute stranger and this is the price he’s got to pay. Lord, help him. He feels as if he might starts to cry. 

“He’s short, isn’t he?” Remus practically hisses in question, dismay coloring his tone as he attempts to sink low in his seat in fear of being spotted too soon. Perhaps he could act as if this were all one big misunderstanding; — perhaps he could deny his identity all together. The man gets a free trip to Amsterdam, plus the decent sum he’s already had to fork over — that should be enough for anyone, yeah?

“Sir, may I direct you to your —-“ The stewardess begins, only to be interrupted by —- 

“Remus, I presume?” The low voice starts; familiar… comfortable. Entirely too put together. 

His heart attempts to leap from his chest, he’s sure, as he turns to direct his gaze towards the man in question— pleading to whatever god is out there that he fits the description in the paper. That he’s not being had; or worse, robbed. Though time seems to move slowly as Remus straightens up in his chair, whiskey eyes peaking over the edge of his seat as he attempts to test the waters. 

The sight he’s met with, however ….. The man seems to be casting his eyelashes down prettily as he waits for a response, suit pristine. Made of a fabric Remus couldn’t begin to fathom the cost of, though it appeared soft; well tailored to his broad shoulders and tapered waist. Truly, he looked to be someone’s filthiest wet dream … perhaps his own. Christ, how long has he been staring?

“May I sit?” The man asks with smiling eyes; his tone — though slightly teasing — higher than Remus had expected. Less resonance—silk instead of velvet.

He nods. “I’m gIad you found it OK. —- The airport... the, er— plane, I mean.” 

Sirius’ brows knit, and he makes a move as he sits—fingertips drifting along the top of Remus’ forearm, then touching his wrist. He rests his fingers there, lightly, and Remus can’t help but direct his gaze straight to the contact. “I'm sorry we couIdn't Ieave sooner,” He returns easily enough, genuine concern lacing his tone as he speaks softly. “I know you wanted to get settIed before the party.” 

Remus lifts his eyes to the escorts, hot with desire. 

“I shouId warn you,” He babbles dumbly in return. Spit seeming usually thick as he swallows. “You know those families where everyone's out of their mind but they're your family, so you Iove them unconditionally?” 

Sirius merely nods in return, though his gaze turns somewhat calculating — as if he’s attempting to guess Remus’ words before he can manage to choke them out. 

Remus shakes his head. “Mine’s not like that,” He continues after a long beat. “And they will all be there, given — well, given that I practically grew up with James.” Remus pauses, ever so briefly. “— I love my dad. However, since he's my stepdad, he's technically not blood. —- He’s more like a hostage.” 

Sirius seems prepared to play off the comment, soften it somehow; though a soft, deep chuckle follows all the same. The sound alone somehow managing to bring Remus away from the edge wordlessly; a small smile pulling onto his lips, as if it’s infectious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard something that rich. Entranced at the way Sirius threw his head back, exposing the line of his throat.

“Drink your champagne,” Sirius suggests, settling into his seat easily as he nods a brief thanks to the stewardess handing him his own glass. Knocked against Remus' in the next moment as he takes an elegant sip. “Get some rest. — Well cross that bridge when we arrive at it, hm?” 

His eyes were just so gentle. 

He blinks owlishly. "Yeah, alright..." Remus returns, slightly wary. 

And despite himself? Remus can’t help but drift off shortly after emptying his glass, soothed for the time being. 

They’d cross that bridge when they arrived at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone even happens to read this, then I hope you've enjoyed so far! I've got much more planned for the future so stay tuned!! Next update should be on Monday (: 
> 
> Until then!


	2. Chapter 2

“Sirius —-“ Remus starts thoughtfully as Sirius moves towards the curb to hail a cab; looking over his well pressed suit as a sudden foreboding thought dawns upon him. The man still looks nearly pristine, that much is certain — as if they hadn’t just sat trapped on a flight for an hour. Every detail obviously taken into consideration, down to the laces of his shoes. However, Remus can’t help but fill with a sense of dread all the same. “Please tell me you're not wearing that tonight.”

Obviously taken off guard, Sirius sends a reproachful glance over his shoulder, eyes calculating once more — as if he’s attempting to understand the meaning behind his words. Grey eyes glancing downwards next as he seems to consider his outfit of choice. He smiles, and on anyone else, the expression might have been patronizing. Though with Sirius’ features, it merely looks fond. 

“I am,” He answers in return, tone lightly amused. 

Remus shakes his head ever so slightly; gaze hesitant as he scans the man before him. “I’m not intending to be nit-picky — honestly. It’s no big deal really….” Though as the nagging thought continues to cloud Remus’ mind, it becomes painfully clear that he will be unable to let this go until it’s resolved. 

A cab pulls up to the curb, and Sirius ducks ever so slightly into the window to give the man their desired destination. 

“——- It’s just that it appears like a tailor made your tie out of a swatch of my bloody sports coat,” He blurts all at once, cheeks flushing with embarrassment despite himself as Sirius seems to cooly ignore his rambling. A quiet ‘thank you’ given as he loads their suitcases into the boot with ease. 

“Don't get me wrong,” He continues on, hoping to do damage control; his nerves evident. “Matching's fine— encouraged, even. Though it’s matchy-matchy you want to Iook out for….” He trails off dumbly. 

Sirius — as if honestly considering the prospect of looking too efficiently coordinated — comes to look Remus over upon shutting the boot, much to his mortification. He shouldn’t have opened his bloody mouth — however, everything has to be perfect. And —-

“We look like we're trying too hard,” Sirius concedes. Suddenly he’s very close. 

Remus nods a tad sheepishly. “ExactIy,” He breaths in relief; pleased that Sirius has understood his obsessive nattering, and hasn’t mistaken him for being some sort of — stuck up color snob. If that’s even a thing… “I want us to look like we fit, but not like we're trying to look like we fit.”

Honied eyes meet grey. “—- Please stop me if I’m being ridiculous,” He huffs after a long beat, shoulders sagging a bit when Sirius otherwise says nothing.

“—- What are the colors?”

“Colors?” Remus asks unsurely in return.

“Yes,” Sirius responds calmly, seemingly uncaring of the cabbie waiting impatiently behind them. “The colors. — The bridesmaids? The flowers?”

And despite himself, Remus can’t help but find it entirely too endearing that Sirius is so respectful towards people getting married; enough to question their colors. — Enough to humor Remus.

“I don’t know,” He nearly whispers in return, feeling a bit ridiculous; his cheeks somehow managing to flush even further. A talent Sirius seems to bring out in him. 

Bloody suave bastard. 

Sirius merely laughs in return — a soft chuckle, warming him from the inside out; his narrow eyes bright. “Let me teach you a trick,” He drawls easily in return, stepping in close; hot breath across Remus’ face. He strokes a slow finger down the lapel of Remus’ sports coat, gaze never wavering — reassuring yet gentle. “If you look people in the eye,” He starts then once more, “They'll never notice what you're wearing.”

And despite the fact that Remus knows what the other is doing — understands fully that he’s merely pulling out a few tricks to keep Remus’ worries at bay, exactly what he paid him to do — he can’t seem to stop looking at Sirius’ mouth all the same. He wants to taste it. He shouldn’t want to but he does, and his knees feel weak.

He steps away, the silence lingering.

“We had better get you to your wedding,” Sirius finishes finally, the door to the cab held open as Remus quickly hustles through.

“Right,” Remus agrees distantly. 

And for the most part, as they ride along in silence, Remus is able to let the entire color debacle go —- though, he isn’t. Not really. And upon nearly reaching the venue in question, his nerves begin to fray once more; the possibility of running into Matthew looking like this sending him toppling over the edge.

“There’s no way I'm showing up in his and — his, outfits,” Remus starts once more a tad impatiently as he drums his fingers upon the seat; eyes fixed on the man beside who merely gazes out the window — watching the city pass with slight interest as he allows Remus to nearly come to pieces beside him. 

“So if you're going to insist on wearing that tie, then I’ll have to change,” He insists. 

No response. Remus grits his teeth. “—- Driver, will you please pull over somewhere?” He requests kindly, motioning towards a nearby pub. That’ll do. 

On the way out, he swears he see’s Sirius stifle a sigh beside him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I'm sorry. I promise this is the last one,” Remus assures as he appears from the bathroom stall in the fifth — yes, fifth — suit he could manage to produce from his luggage; the entire thing a mess on the floor just behind him. Exploded outwards. Though he’ll deal with that later. 

“You must think…” He trails off, his eye’s searching Sirius’ handsome face swiftly. He goes back to fiddling with his sleeve. “—-Who knows what you think?” Remus finishes somberly, almost to himself. 

Though Sirius — looking as unperturbed as ever — merely casts his eyelashes down prettily once more as he takes a moment to smooth out the silk of his problematic tie. Either, pretending not to notice Remus’ mental bloody break down; or, not caring all together. 

He crosses his arms in front of him, lounging in the doorframe, simply watching.

“I know how important this is for you,” He answers easily, as if testing out the silkiness of his voice. He gives him a pleasant smile. “—- But remember, you're a beautiful man and you've got everything going for you.”

Remus glances up.

“—- Don’t patronize me,” He returns abruptly, turning away; disappearing into the bathroom stall once more as he aims try to on the sixth option since arriving. Nearly knocking his knee against the fucking toilet paper dispenser as he lets out a low, irritated curse. 

Instead of getting upset, however, Sirius seems to merely allow the side of his mouth to twitch as Remus appears a long moment later in yet another option; and Remus would have called it a smile, except the rest of his face didn’t quite make it. It remained hard and inscrutable. 

His gaze as intense as ever. 

“I feeI as if i’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards,” Remus starts once more, doing a bit of a spin as he shows off his last and only hope left, “and I feel like bloody shite. But if we’re really doing this, looking hot is essential.” 

“Mission accomplished.”

Remus’ eyes narrow. “Really?” 

“—- I prefer the red tie with the blue suit,” A high voice cuts in from just behind Sirius, thick Scottish accent a bit jarring given the area. Though the woman smiling from behind the bar certainly fits the drawl.

Tone incredulous, Remus can only imagine what Sirius’ expression must appear like as he turns to glance in the direction of the unwanted opinion. “—— I’ll Iet him know,” He answers stiffly. 

Remus pays the woman no mind. “Honestly,” He pushes then as he captures Sirius’ attention once more, brows lifting as he attempts to wrangle a truthful answer out of the suave, overly-pleasing man before him. “Do I come across as nice? or 'Gorgeous. I was insane to ever let you go'?

“Well, I'd shag you,” The voice cuts in once more; certainly jolly. Though it seems to waver as Sirius glances over his shoulder once more. “—- If that's all right with you?” 

Remus and Sirius share a disbelieving look. 

“Do you take me for some sort of liar?” Sirius merely questions in return, his tone light. He smiles as if he knows himself to be compelling—a slow curl at the corner that gradually burns. And Remus supposes there’s only so much encouraging he can do in one day.

“Thank you,” Remus finishes finally, suddenly feeling bashful as he stands barefoot before the other; the urge to disappear back into the stall strong. Though he forces himself to finish his thought. “— For doing this.”

“It is my pleasure.” Letting his mouth curl at the corners, Sirius holds out his arm. “Shall we, then?”

“Yes,” Remus agrees, reaching to take his arm. 

~~~~~~~~~~~  
Despite his best attempts, Remus has not allowed himself to forget how imposing a room full of invested, nosy family members — as well as friends alike — can be. Especially when the number is doubled; James’ family practically serving as his own. Not to mention lovely Lily, who means well, Remus is aware. Though, there’s only so much pestering one man can take about his non existent love life. 

And while he’s prepared for this, exactly as he’s prepared for every single detail of this evening….

Fear sluices through Remus hard as they enter the foyer. “I don't know if I can do this.” 

“Well,” Sirius returns in a tone meant only for Remus’ ears, simultaneously giving him one of his light, happy grins he’s been using all evening as he guides them towards the coat check, “You can never be sure of anything. But we still have to go inside.” 

Remus nearly disagrees. Even opens his mouth to say so; however, the sight of a familiar face turning to greet them has him all but pausing in his tracks. 

Christ, they really are doing this, aren’t they? 

“Aunt Bea!” Remus greets James’ favorite aunt as he swallows hard, attempting to compose himself in the face of scrutiny as the two engage in a lingering hug. 

“Dear lad,” Beatriz returns in a tone that is otherwise remorseful; full of sympathy as she reaches out to take Remus’ hand into her own upon pulling back. Expression pitiful. “This should have been you getting married,” She goes onto lament. 

And despite his attempts to feign nonchalance, but he can already feel dread curdling in his stomach.

“You know, you didn't have to return the gravy boat,” She goes onto say, head shaking as she tsks disapprovingly at him. “And to think! Matthew is the best man….”

“—— Have you met Sirius?” Remus interrupts swiftly before the entire sob story has a chance to come out. And to think — as Aunt Bea had put it — they’ve only just walked in through the bloody door. 

“How do you do?” Sirius intervenes easily, for which Remus is grateful. He takes her hand and kisses it. 

“Oh, how charming,” Beatriz all but giggles in return, the eighty year old seeming to bat her lashes as she leers in the direction of his date; putting her hand out, shawl falling slightly off her shoulder. “And what do you do?”

Though before the exchange can escalate any further, Remus interrupts once more; a charming smile flashed as he all but hustles his date away. “Excuse us,” He requests, pulling Sirius by the sleeve as he intends to disappear into the gathering crowd.

“——- What a nightmare,” Remus murmurs then only once the two are safely out of ear-shot, situating them both into the darkest corner of the coat check as he aims for some privacy; Sirius looking amused at the very least as he goes along with him. “Right — We need a story.”

Sirius merely quirks a brow, reaching for Remus’ dinner jacket. “Where do you usually find dates?” He asks as he helps it from his shoulders. 

Remus blinks. “I pay them, evidently,” He returns bleakly. 

The words are so flat that Sirius appears momentarily startled, seeming to regain his composure a beat later as a low, smooth chuckle fills the space; putting Remus at ease once more. 

“Perhaps you should say so,” Sirius returns easily, “Though I have got more skills than merely one.”

“I hope that includes talking to a bunch of dull people.”

“I am -- in fact -- superb at talking to dull people. I do it on the daily.”

Remus sighs, dryly amused. “—- We could say you’re a therapist?” He suggests, because honestly, it wouldn’t be so far fetched for him to have one of those hanging about his life. “And you’re mad about me, of course.” 

Sirius merely nods agreeably, hanging his own jacket up as he hums in acknowledgment. 

Remus produces an envelop from his jacket pocket then before he can otherwise forget. “Count it,” He requests, tone earnest as presses the money into Sirius’ hand. “It’s all there.” 

“— Oh, I trust you,” Sirius begins, looking somewhat flustered for the first time since Remus has made his acquaintance. 

“No. Count it. — Please.” 

Sirius lifts his eyes to his. “All right,” He complies lowly, thumb trailing over the bills as he silently counts the exchange. “—- I’ll cover expenses,” He goes onto elaborate a moment later, “but if you want to be intimate, we taIk money first.”

And Remus can’t help but laugh before he can otherwise stifle it, the sound seeming exceedingly loud in the small space; the thought of being intimate with someone he’s paying absolutely appalling. Though, as Sirius stares at him admits the dark, grey eyes intense, Remus sends him a sheepish look in return. 

“That won't be an issue,” He assures, “I find the idea of sex for money morally repugnant.” 

Sirius blinks. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus attempts to quickly amend, cheeks heating upon realizing his mistake. “ —- No offense.” 

And with that, Sirius turns away; something tragic about his profile. Shoulders far from slumped, though he does appear to be slightly peeved. 

“Do me a favor,” He directs towards Remus on their way out, the agreeable music heard faintly from the other room now swelling as they meander towards the rest of the party; chattering adding to the noise. “Quit apologizing, yeah? If you look at this as a business transaction, perhaps you won’t feeI so compelled to keep saying sorry.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

Remus wishes he could swallow his tongue. 

“—- It’s aIso really annoying,” Sirius finishes, teeth appearing to be slightly grit once more. 

“Sorry,” He answers nervously. He shakes his head. “—- Sorry.” 

“Remus, darling!” A familiar voice interrupts then. And Remus has never been so thankful to hear the sound of his mother’s voice; that, certainly being a first.

“What happened to you?” She requests as she seemingly comes from nowhere in particualr; pulling him into a crushing hug as he leans in to whisper in his ear. “—- Pull over for a quickie?” 

Remus allows a long-suffering sigh to pass his lips, not bothering to stifle it. “Mum, this is so not the time to be yourself,” He answers woefully in return, not daring to glance in Sirius' direction; the implications too much for him at the moment. 

Hope sends him a wink. “—- And who might this be?” She requests upon registering Sirius stood beside him, gaze as sharp as a tack as she directs it questioningly at him. 

Sirius remains un-phased, as per usual. “I'm the new guy,” He teases in return, reaching out to also place a kiss upon her hand as he smiles that rich grin. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” 

He seems to bloody sparkle. 

And, of course, leave it to his mother to practically sparkle back.

“LoveIy,” She drawls easily, as if seeming to truly consider him; a look of recognition flashing in her eyes before she’s back to pestering Remus. “—- Now, this is a marathon, not a sprint,” She informs the two as it’s then her turn to hustle them along, showing off the elaborate ballroom as she directs them towards the bar. “We’ve got welcome cocktails today. Then, tomorrow's Young People In The Park and Stags And Hens. Friday's the picnic, then the rehearsal dinner. And since we all know how you get, I need you to hydrate, darling.”

Remus faintly wonders how he was ever relieved to see his mother. 

“Dad,” He sighs with genuine relief upon the older man turning, grey seeming to color his temples more than the last time he's seen him— a gin and tonic held out in his direction as Remus accepts it willingly. He doesn't bother to answer his mother. 

“My boy,” Remus’ step father greets happily, a kiss pressed upon his head as Remus all but melts under the familiarity of it all; wondering briefly how he managed to go so long without visiting his father. Some son he is, truly.

“Meet Sirius,” Remus introduces, aiming for casual -- though he can't help but feel nervous all the same. 

“Professor Ellis,” Sirius greets, absolutely beguiling as he extends a firm hand. 

His father is charmed, of course.

“How do you do?” His father answers in return, seeming somewhat surprised; though only Remus can tell, surely. 

“Remus! Oh, Rem, you’ve made it!” 

Twisting to see who has spoken, Remus finally comes eye to eye with the bride to be—Miss Lily Evans, soon to be Potter — looking as radiant as ever as she all but parts the crowd in her haste to fling herself into Remus’ awaiting arms. 

The two fit together like puzzle pieces. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” He chuckles, unable to keep himself from beaming as he holds his friend close, the sweet smell of her hair intoxicating. He can still practically hear James waxing poetry about it himself, long nights spent reassuring the other that they were truly meant to be -- that he would be absolutely mad to let her slip through his fingers. 

“Oh, I missed you so much!” Lily exclaims, eyes seeming to know exactly where to land as they zero in on Sirius standing directly behind him; seemingly still engaged with his father as he too turns to send him a glance. 

He can't help but feel slightly proud, if only for a moment.

“Gosh, who's the hunky, huh?” She requests firmly, eyebrows pushing into her fiery hair line as she seems to silently demand details; a wink given then before she’s off. “Nice! —Forgive me, won’t you? I’ve still got an entire room to charm!” 

“At times like these,” Sirius starts from behind him then, Remus re-entering the conversation as he’s thankful to find the most important man in his life seeming to agree with his — er — date. “I find a good, stiff drink helps. Can I get you a refill, sir?”

“Very kind of you.”

Ellis sets his gaze on Remus as Sirius leaves to wave down the bar tender. “Where did you find him?” He questions conspiratorially, gaze all too knowing. 

Remus takes a long sip of his gin and tonic, quickly fumbling for an answer. 

“—- Yellow Pages?” 

His father merely chuckles, much to his relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? An early update? -- Why, yes, I think it is! Thank you all for the lovely feedback. I hope you enjoyed chapter 2 just as much (: Also, Remus' parents are perhaps the most AU part of this story. Or at least I think so; i've interpreted Hope as rather out-going where as his step-father is certainly the calm to her storm. *shrugs* Also his name is Ellis ... I might get into some back story about Remus' biological father, but we shall see!!
> 
> ** 8/13 ** forgot to mention, the next update will be on Wednesday!!


	3. Chapter 3

Surely seducing his family and friends isn’t as easy as Sirius makes it out to be. Though, Remus suspects that despite his obvious motives to make this night go as smoothly as possible … he really is as charming as he seems. 

He’s acquired the upper hand by receiving the guest list prior to the event, of course. A requirement upon booking, which Remus found to be oddly… thorough on his part. And undoubtedly he’s memorized the names of each of the attendees Remus had not only starred but underlined—- their particular predicament allowing little room for error. Though, outshining Remus isn’t exactly a difficult task, per say; he is, admittedly, somewhat of a social dunce despite his best efforts. So truly Sirius himself can not be blamed for so politely and effortlessly charming everyone around him; so attractive and magnetic, that one could not easily accuse him of purposely drawing focus. 

By no means had Remus wanted an accessory for the evening, however. Someone to dote on him and set him off, someone to hang on his every word. So truly, it appears that he’s found his perfect match — said match gradually and quite effectively beginning to soak up every ounce of lime light previously devoted to … well, perhaps even the bride and groom, as it would seem.  


Remus is getting exactly what he desired upon seeking Sirius out—an intelligent and attractive companion. 

And if said companion is too intelligent and too attractive—then that’s merely his own fault. 

Sirius is quite good, really. 

When every once in a while Remus finds himself engaged in an otherwise unwanted conversation — usually prior to being approached by someone he could not manage to escape, ending up cornered and panicking — Sirius simply speaks for him. Sometimes lightly touching his back, like a lover might, so that people can see he has Remus’ permission to speak in his stead. He plays the lover in other little ways as well—stealing morsels off of Remus’ plate at dinner; occasionally sipping his wine as he chats with his father. And in the end, he simply pushes his plate next to Sirius’, giving him his entire share of dessert. Because he deserves it, doesn’t he? 

Remus can’t help but stare, honestly, slightly entranced by his partner in crime despite being in on the trick himself. Honied eyes sweep over pulled back hair, tied effortlessly into a knot at the base of his head; along the bridge of a prim nose. Over the curves of his cupid’s bow. He wonders if Sirius is aware of how elegant he appears when he speaks … is he always so eloquent? Surely not, everyone has their off days. Though even Sirius, he supposes, would look rather fetching in a pair of worn joggers … 

“Alright?” Sirius asks lowly then, catching him outright staring much to his dismay, though Remus tries to glance away a beat too late — flushing as he silently curses himself for being so transparent.

He nods as Sirius squeezes his hand beneath the table, their fingers linked intimately. His gaze falls to the contact once more. 

“Mhm,” Remus manages to hum out in return, reaching for his wine glass with his free hand as he aims to blame his creeping blush on the alcohol. 

He drains his glass in one long, effortless swig as a sudden voice cuts through his impending embarrassment; the crowd murmuring in response, shifting to find the source. 

“— Hello?” His mother questions into an otherwise disobedient microphone, the crowd wincing as it squeals horribly; Remus paling as he watches his mother attempt to wrangle it into submission with a will only she could muster.

“Sweet Jesus,” Rems mutters darkly to himself, his voice low as he stares with utter horror, “Who gave that woman an amp?”

His step-father chuckles beside Sirius, who, merely sends him a questioning glance. 

“Hello,” Hope tries once more, a look of dissatisfaction crossing her features as she stares unhappily into the silent microphone. “—- Hello?” She tries for a third time. “Oh! Wonderful. It's finally working. Does everybody have a drink, then? Because I am going to say a few words.” 

Remus considers running — upright dashing from the room despite the looks he would undoubtedly receive. Though, in this particular instance, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to care. His mother with a microphone a very dangerous thing indeed — a very opinionated woman on her own, though ten times as much, given an audience. He wonder’s briefly where Euphemia is. Or Lily’s mum, for that matter. 

“Welcome, friends and family…” Hope continues on then, smile genuine as she speaks out to the crowd; champagne held in one delicate hand. “Speaking for everyone — we are so pleased that you're here to celebrate with us as we join two families into one.”  


End it there, Remus wills desperately. Though knowing his mother, he isn’t nearly so lucky.

“Now — we always thought that we would marry our Remus off first,” Hope continues on. And Remus can’t help but slouch somewhat into his seat as eyes seem to find him from all over the room; the weight of their gazes nearly unbearable. 

Sirius’ included.

Remus wishes he could disappear all together. 

“We came pretty close once,” Hope seems to recall fondly, a chuckle given as she shakes her head. “— but, as you all know, that crashed and burned.” Remus physically winces. “—- Luckily, we were abIe to get the deposit back, so here we are again… happy to share advice and guidance to —-“ 

By some saving grace, someone — an angel, perhaps — cuts his mother off mid sentence. A flourish of piano chords played loudly as the room chuckles somewhat uncomfortably in response to his mothers — er — misguided speech. 

James finds his gaze from across the room and gives him an encouraging nod. Remus can barely manage to lift his glass half-heartedly in response. 

“To the bride and groom,” A familiar voice announces, his glass held high as he attempts to steer Remus’ mother back to the topic at hand. 

Also looking as fit as ever, Remus notes. Bloody, buggering, fucking, hell. 

“Oh, yes,” His mother replies distantly, though Remus can barely breath — the familiar voice nearly stopping his heart all together as he sits otherwise petrified … resisting the urge to turn in his chair and track the sound with his eyes, the little voice in his head firmly directing him to keep his eye on Sirius, for fucks sake. 

Seeming to sense the tension, Sirius gives his hand a slight squeeze. 

Remus squeezes back. “—- Excuse me,” He whispers before he can otherwise stop himself, napkin placed onto the table as he pushes himself back. Ignoring the look Sirius sends him as he disappears from the room. 

“Well, back to the bride and groom to be. James, we are so glad that you fell in love with the girl next door — Lily. Congratulations, babies.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Matthew!” Remus calls, hot on the other’s heels as he follows him from the dining room, their family and friends returning to regular conversation just behind them as the room seems to roar back to life with him no longer in it. 

This is a rotten idea, he’s aware. And truthfully, he’s already done with this conversation before it’s even begun. Though he supposes it’s habit more than anything that’s drawn him after the other —- the urge to get this meeting over with. 

They aren’t on friendly terms, given the circumstances, by any means — though Remus isn’t nearly the gargoyle he’d been a few months prior. And while he’s still perhaps a tad moody and foreboding, Remus is always moody and foreboding; his posture towards the blonde seemingly still . . . attentive if not a bit hesitant as he comes to a jogging stop just before him. 

Christ, the man stills smells good.

“Remus,” Matthew returns, his voice faint — not quite holding the usual authority it otherwise might as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. Gaze distant. And Remus can’t help but track the other’s throat as he swallows, seemingly thickly. “You look …. gorgeous.”

Remus goes still. 

“Gorgeous?” He begins in return, though stops. He doesn’t know how to fix the sharpness of his tone, and truly, he hadn’t followed the other for a fight. 

Matthew stays silent. 

Swallowing, Remus looks away. “Don’t talk like that,” He requests stiffly. 

“Like what?” Matthew echos. 

“Like you’ve got a bloody script. — By now I expect you’re able to say what you really think.”

Matthew quickly shakes his head. “Perhaps you wouldn’t like what I really think.”

Remus can’t bring himself to answer in return, and when the silence stretches he watches with slightly wide eyes as Matthew merely reaches out his hand — and it’s an unattractive hand, really. Square, with chipped nails, and Remus doesn’t like what Matthew is doing with it. His rough fingers tracing along Remus’ temple, the coarse pad of his thumb touching the corner of his lip, just the corner, the part where smiles come — though he can’t bring himself to smile. Not at Matthew. 

Not for a long while. 

And as Matthew holds him there, Remus supposes this must be what it feels like — to be wanted, to be truly desired. 

To be devoured.

“Oh, my God!” A sudden voice explodes, and Remus can’t tell if he’s relieved or bloody irritated at the interruption as the two step back from one another; the trance broken.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God! Remus Lupin! Oh, where the bloody hell have you been, then?” Marlene greets in a flourish on blonde hair, styled attractively into a surprisingly neat braid — though a few pieces can’t seem to help but fall out. Her eyes just as bright as ever as she psychically steps between Matthew and himself; expression unable to settle on one emotion, it seems, as she glowers up at him. “I have gynecologists that call more often!” She scolds. 

Remus merely lifts a brow. “You’ve got more than one?” 

Marlene shrugs, somehow managing to make the movement elegant as she then takes him by the hand. “I play them off against each other,” She replies with ease. With that, she turns on her heels, smirk smug as she eyes the man before her — an entire two heads taller, though that’s never stopped Marlene before. “Hello, arsehoIe,” She drawls in greeting. “Since you dumped my friend here brutally, you won't mind if I steal him away, will you? Thanks.”

And though Matthew still betrays no expression as Marlene attempts to pull him from sight, Remus can see that this has affected him—his eyes flaring ever so slightly; the corners of his mouth tight. Sympathy. Shared pain. Tenderness, perhaps…. 

“You didn't have to do that,” Remus sighs as calmly as he can manage. 

Marlene merely sends him a wicked smile over her shoulder as she directs him back towards the bar, the crowd parting effortlessly as Remus is left dragging behind. 

“I wasn't saving you from him, dear,” She echos distantly in return, refusing to let go of his hand just yet, it seems. In fear he might turn and run away, undoubtedly. “— I was saving you from yourself. You, my love, are too bloody nice.”

With that, she seems to derail briefly, a flirtatious nod given as a particularly stunning brunette passes; fuck-me-eyes visible from a mile away as the two exchange a heated glance. Marlene sighs contentedly, lifting onto her heels a moment later as she stretches to get the bartenders attention — a cherry swiped in the process. 

She pops it swiftly into her mouth. 

“I’ve never seen so many beautiful women in one room,” Marlene muses thoughtfully, elbows hooked onto the bar behind her as she leans back; her eyes calculating as she scans the room efficiently. Her eyes light up once more — Remus swears he’s never met anyone nearly as expressive — and Remus can’t help but follow her line of sight to none of than …

Sirius, of course, charming a well put together group of older woman as they seem to fawn and gawk about him; head tipping back as he laughs, the line of his shoulders loose. 

Marlene hums lowly beside him. “What about him, then? Honestly, why waste time on that horse's arse when Mr. Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down is waiting for you right over there?” 

Remus supposes that’s a good point. 

“What does he do?” She attempts once more, eyebrows lifting as she all but drags an answer from him.

“He's a therapist,” Remus answers distantly. 

“Ah, the perils of paranoia.”

As if sensing the attention, Sirius turns to direct his gaze — seeming to bloody twinkle as he has the audacity to wink at Remus.

“Oh, God,” Marlene murmurs lowly beside him, “I think I've just come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's technically still Wednesday -- though it is late -- so I'm still on time!! I wanted this chapter to be much longer, but you'll have to forgive me as time just escaped me this week. (The woes of being a preschool teacher, attempting to frantically prep her room for the beginning of the year). Next update should come on next Wednesday, so keep an eye out for that! 
> 
> Also thank you all for your lovely comments thus far! I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying this little journey just as much as I am (: 
> 
> P.s. sorry for any errors -- it's late and i couldn't bring myself to beta this chapter


End file.
